


A Merry Dance

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:36:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Abbie learns about entertainment in Ichabod's day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Internet’s out,” Abbie announced as she walked into her living room - their living room, she mentally auto-corrected.

“Thankyou for alerting me,” Ichabod murmured in response, glancing up from his current tome. A stack of old books, beautiful in their dilapidated, leather-bound spines, sat on the coffee table, waiting patiently for his attention.

“Not that it makes a lot of difference to you really. You’ve only had internet for a few years.”

“And what a marvel it is.” He closed the book and reached for his tea. The scent of blueflower earl grey, a scent she had come to associate with him, with home, curled through the air towards her.

She sat down on the sofa, fed up. She felt lost without the internet, lost without her connection to the outside world.

“As difficult as it may be to believe, though-” he sipped his tea, humming a little, pleased with the taste “-we did have our diversions, although nothing as consuming as Candy Crush or InstantGram.”

“Instagram.”

He huffed. “You may endeavour as much as you like to get me to call it what it is - erroneously - named - however, InstantGram is grammatically correct.”

She rolled her eyes. “Tell me about eighteenth century… diversions.” Anything to shut him up about what modern day apps and shows should be called. Lord save her.

“Well.” He straightened up a bit and lowered his teacup, going into what she thought of privately as Professor Crane mode. “We had cards. Charades. Musical instruments. And dancing, of course.”

“Dancing.” She snorted. “Imagine you throwing some shapes on the dancefloor.”

He eyed her for a second, and she saw it - a hint of impishness; just a mischievous quirk of his eyebrow. 

“Crane! You’re not seriously telling me you were the Channing Tatum of your day.”

He ignored that. “As well as being enjoyed and anticipated, the dances we had required some skill. There was no “throwing shapes” as you put it. Dances were learned in advance. At a large social occasion, they were a way to steal a few moments with someone you most wished to be near, to touch them, albeit for a scant second. There could be great thrill in it, a secret shared amidst a crowd.”

His words heated something in her. She watched his long fingers wind around the teacup, and suddenly thinking about those hands on her snapped something.

“Teach me.”

He almost bobbled the teacup. “To dance?”

“Sure.” Abbie swallowed. Didn’t seem like such a good idea now, did it. But she’d put it out there. And she was no quitter. “Why not?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waltzing and conversation.

“Now?”

“Of course now,” Abbie replied impatiently, standing from the sofa and moving to the centre of the room. For a whizz-kid scholar, he could be a bit slow at times.

Ichabod set all his items aside on the table and stood too, then reached in the pocket of that ridiculous coat for his smartphone. “It would be best if I located the appropriate music. What would you prefer? A quadrille? A waltz?”

Abbie studied him and saw that he was poking fun at her. “What would you normally teach to a beginner at… this sort of thing?”

“The waltz was the first dance I learned,” he replied absently, thumbing through something on his phone. “I… Ah, yes. Here.” He pressed a button and a stream of classical music played from the small speakers. “Since I have learned to download mp3s, as you call them, I have discovered a wide range of visionary composers in the classical field.”

Abbie folded her arms, nervous now that he’d added music. “Tell me about this dance, then.”

He moved to stand opposite her now. “The waltz is a three-beat dance, and primarily a box step.” He held out a hand to her. “If you will permit me to show you?”

She couldn’t back out now. Feeling as if she should be wearing some sort of fancy eighteenth-century costume, and not just a t-shirt and jeans, Abbie put her smaller hand in his. “Sure.”

“Place your other hand on my shoulder.” He continued to hold her right hand, while his own free hand settled gently at her waist. He tugged her slightly closer, frowning when she resisted. “We do not have to continue with this, Lieutenant,” he reminded her gently.

He had no idea that it was being close to him, not the dancing, that made her uncomfortable. Pride stickled her; she wouldn’t turn tail. Suck it up, Mills. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Let’s do this thing.”

He searched her gaze for a second. “Very well. In a waltz, our steps will form a box, if you will. Follow my lead, if you like.”

“Don’t tread on my feet,” she joked, trying to dissipate her own nerves.

“I shall try to refrain,” he replied dryly, then started softly counting out loud. “One, two, three, one two three….”

He turned her slowly around the room, his steps slow and measured, as she followed, staring at the floor to begin with. He was a patient teacher - why did that not surprise her.

“Did you share many secrets with women like this?” she asked, referring to his earlier statement. Her mind whirled with images of what his life must have been like. She’d bet he had women queuing up to dance with him like this. They’d want to drown in his engaging blue eyes.

His brow winged up. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Abbie swallowed. “I would, actually.”

He turned her again, slightly quicker this time, and her breath caught a little. “What was it you so succinctly said to me in an earlier conversation? Mind your business?”

Something she now wished she hadn’t said. “Touché. Look... I'm not good at ..this.”

"You are doing famously."

"Not this. I mean.... You know. Emotional stuff. Sharing things about myself. Sharing anything, really."

He sighed, and Abbie felt his breath ruffle her hair slightly. “Lieutenant, whether we like it or not, we have many secrets from each other. It remains up to you whether we keep the status quo. I will share myself with you utterly and completely, but would want the same from you in return.”

And he would deserve the same. Abbie squeezed his shoulder and he stopped, ending their short waltz. “What if I wanted more?” she asked.

“More?”

She let her hand drift up his shoulder and to his neck, her fingers tangling in the ends of his newly-cropped hair. He felt warm and solid and real. God, she never wanted him to go AWOL on her again. “What if I wanted everything?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Everything?”

Abbie could tell from his surprise that he had not expected her to even respond, let alone ask for the moon on a freaking stick. He let go of her hand and stepped back slightly. She felt the loss keenly. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I mean… God, Crane. I’m not good at this stuff, like I said. I didn’t even know you two years ago! And you come into my life like some sort of eighteenth century whirlwind, and you turn it all upside down, and then you go AWOL for nearly a year, and now you’re back…”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, momentarily overcome by emotion, uncomfortable with it. Why couldn’t she just have stayed in her room like a normal person? And why did the internet choose today to cut out? Lord.

“Lieutenant.” His voice was unbearably gentle. 

She couldn’t stand it. “Look. Forget it.”

He cupped her cheek. His palm was smooth and warm. “That is out of the question. I said I would share myself with you utterly and completely, and I will remain true to those words. And if you want everything, my dear Abbie…. I shall endeavour to deliver. But you must know, it has been some time since I shared anything of myself, in any way – with a woman.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Over two hundred years.”

“Indeed.” He smiled back; it warmed his azure eyes. “You asked about other women I had… shared secrets with. I would never consider saying that those women meant nothing to me – they did not. And everything that I have done, everyone I have been with… they have led me to this singular moment with you. They have made me the man I am today, and for that alone they shaped my life.”

“That’s good. That’s… right.” He wouldn’t have been the man she wanted, Abbie thought, not if he discarded all his past lovers as nothing. “It’s how I feel about… the men in my past.”

“And yet.” He rubbed his thumb gently over her lower lip, and the contact felt supercharged. “And yet I feel my nerves are shredded with you. It’s a feeling to which I am most unaccustomed… and I have lived through more than a few nerve-wracking experiences in my time.”

She thought of the Boston Tea Party; of him shooting the headless horseman; of all the times he’d shot and been shot at during the war. “I’ll say. And I make you nervous?”

The fact that she could make this man feel nervous touched her deeply. Made her feel powerful beyond her wildest dreams. And it scared her.

“More than you know,” he said softly. His words barely reached her ears, even over the music from the crappy speakers on his smartphone. “God’s wounds, I feel like – what is the saying – a fish out of water here. Courtship…. And all its facets have likely changed beyond my wildest imaginings.”

She covered his hand with hers and linked their fingers. “Facets? You mean…?” Her gaze dipped to his breeches, and then, uncharacteristically shy, darted away and back to his face.

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I do mean.”

You can relax, Crane. When I said “everything,” I didn’t mean everything right now. Like you said, we’ve still got a lot to learn about each other. Don’t we?”

“It would appear so. But… we must all start somewhere, Lieutenant, must we not? And I believe I would very much like to start with this.” And he dipped his head and kissed her, gently at first, a sort of experiment, testing the waters for himself, and for her. As the music from his phone reached a crescendo, he deepened the kiss, wrapping his free arm around her, tugging her close. She breathed him in. He tasted of his favourite tea, with just a sweet edge that came from the modern-day snack food he couldn’t seem to get enough of. His hand moved from her cheek to cup the back of her head, threading through her hair, and he deepened the kiss. She opened for him, seeing stars when his tongue tentatively touched hers for the first time. She her imagined his moment over and over, during slow work hours, in bed alone.. but the solid warmth of him outstripped all her feverish day dreams. 

When they finally parted, Abbie stared up at him. God, the man could kiss. She imagined him as the man she’d met during her foray back in time – stern, capable, commanding. And she just bet he had left a trail of weak-kneed society misses in his uniformed wake.

They grinned foolishly at each other. 

“More,” Abbie demanded, her fingers curling into the lapels of his coat. She was going to get him out of that thing one day. One day soon, she mentally corrected. She’d give him time to adjust – he did say he was nervous - but damn, a woman could only be expected to wait so long.

“Who am I to deny you?” He bent his head again, and his next words were whispered against her lips. “Oh, Lieutenant. You and I are going to lead a merry dance together. And I anticipate each and every moment.”

She silenced him with a kiss. And then further talking was no longer needed.


End file.
